


Second Chances

by SubliminalDisaster (orphan_account)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Death, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, George Literally Gaslights Himself, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), I am actually struggling to think of tags rn, Jealousy, Kissing, Letters, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Minor Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Murder, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), References to Depression, Reminiscing, Self-Hatred, Some Plot, Suicide, Unhealthy Relationships, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29630484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SubliminalDisaster
Summary: Dream receives a book in which George recounts his attempt at breaking him out of prison and the long time he had spent without him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Trigger Warning for suicide, mental breakdowns, minor gore,
> 
> And idk what it’s called but George is blaming himself :)
> 
> Also, this may or may not be based slightly on the songs I’ll Be There and Second Chances by Hollywood Undead :D shshhhsh

Dream woke up to the sound of Sam smashing in his head like a heavy hammer with a stern voice.

"I brought you breakfast," he told him, sliding a tray holding a freshly cooked meal under the bars. He held a book in his hand, opening the front page. Usually he would have walked away by now, but he waiting for Dream to drag himself over to collect his meal. Sam looked away towards the floor before pushing the book towards him as well. "I also have this." 

"What is it?" Dream asked. He set his tray of breakfast onto the edge of his desk nearby, plucking the book from the bricks. He inspected the leather, a label sewn into the front cover that read his name, written in a dark ink. He was curious, he never received anything out of the ordinary like this. He glanced at the writing again, it looked like George's. He went to open it, only to be stopped.

"You should probably wait to read it," Sam instructed. He spoke in his usual authoritative tone he did when dealing with the prisoner, but now his hands were clasped together and his stance was lightened. 

"Why?" Dream pushed, slowly closing the book again, "is it bad?" 

"Just... just read it when you're ready," his voice lowered, "it's a lot to take in." Dream gave him a blank look, running his fingers down the spine. Now the pages beneath the leather held a sort of dread, a distressing feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned it over in his hands for another moment. "I'll have a few other things for you here soon, but you have to read through the book first. Enjoy your breakfast." 

The sound of Sam's footsteps carried into the walls as he walked back down the hall, soon dissipating completely. He stared down to the writing over the cover. It was definitely George's hand writing. What could possibly be inside that it would bother even Sam? He wondered. Why was he letting him have this? It must have been important. He wondered what had happened in the time of his absence, now worrying for the safety of his friends. His friends he betrayed, his friends that he emotionally ruined, his friends that still hadn't found it in them to visit him. The pain he had brought them was irreversible, that damage would be there forever, whether he got out of here and reconnected with them, whether they came to visit him, or whether they decide not to. 

He pulled his chair out, setting the book at the opposite side of his desk, settling to eat now and worry about the book later. He stared down at the green tray. Three small pancakes, strips of bacon, an apple. It was all stuff Sam threw together for him early in the morning, he always put thought into the meals he brought him, not enough that it was particularly caring, but enough that it took his health and overall well-being into account. However today's breakfast was very minimal. 

At least he was feeding him, he thought, breaking apart a piece of bacon. But even as he ate, his eyes always found their way back to the book. George still hadn't visited him. But maybe that was for the better. When Sapnap came in, he felt he couldn't face him, he saw the disappointment and anger he held in his eyes for him. It hurt knowing just how much he had affected them all. He even felt remorseful about everything he did to Tommy upon having the time to think it over. He had come to realize he probably deserved being locked up like this, he no longer felt mistreated, but rather held a new self-pity in coming to find the reality of the hardship and misery he had brought upon his friends. Or... people who use to be his friends. 

Once he had finished his breakfast, he pushed the tray back under the bars that separated him and a hallway of other empty cells that led back to what he assumed was the kitchen, and eventually Sam's office. He'd come and pick it up later. 

Dream picked up the book once more, carrying it over to his bed. He sat down, bracing himself for whatever the pages had written inside. He let out a deep breath, prying open the cover and pushing it to the side. 

'From George' was all it read on the first page, it was as he suspected. While he was glad George was thinking about him and that he had finally interacted with him in some way, he was scared to flip past this page. Sam was clearly unsettled after reading it himself, there was no way whatever was inside was going to be particularly pleasing to read. 

With shaking hands, swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned the page. George's lettering was smooth, softly written down the page. His fingertips drifted over the words, feeling each indent left in the page. He admired the way he could see his hand moving as he wrote, steady strokes of the pen rest gently in his hand. He could see him tugging the ink along the paper, stopping to dip into the jar once more. He could see the concentration on his brow, the way the liquid flowed from the metal nib, he could see him sat at his desk at home or out sat under a tree in the flower field they use to visit together all the time, pen at hand. But he could also see the anguish on his features, he could feel that these words were written with an ache in his heart. 

He bit his lip, bringing his eyes to the top of the page to actually read what was written, already feeling a heavy cast of sorrow wrap around him. There was a date written at the top.

"It's been a week. I don't think I'll be able to bring myself to visit you. At least not yet. But I need this to reach you. I need you to know what I have to say,” George had jotted down.

Dream could practically hear his voice echo in the back of his mind as he read it. He thought of George being too pained to visit him, he thought of never seeing him again. 

"I've never been good at reading people, you are no exception to that, but I can still feel the good in you. The old Dream is in there somewhere. I don't know how you're feeling right now, but I know if I were in your place it would be tough. 

I think about you every day. So much so that it hurts. I got so caught up I lost my meaning. I've tried to write this several times now, but nothing comes out right. I found myself sinking to the past, but not the past I would have wanted to be caught up in, doubting the light after the dark and doubting the love for you I hold in my heart. 

I've ever missed someone as much as I do now, I've never wanted to fix someone as much as I do now. I think of the memories with you I prize just a little too much, to the point where the details are fuzzy, but even that you is more you than you are now. I guess that's the meaning of a memory. Thinking back to when things were better, brighter days, a better Dream. A Dream I didn't feel I had to convince myself I still cared for. 

I've tossed the meaning of 'love' around in my head for the past week, but now I see I was dead wrong in my doubt. I've always loved you and I always will. All I an really asking for is for you to let me give you that second chance. I guess that's what I'm trying to convey here.

The flowers, the reflection of the sun on the water, the path that leads through the city; it all reminds me of you. I stopped going outside after the the first two days, but that only caused me to find more of these things within my own house. The walls remind me of you, the curtains on the windows, the outside view of the garden. It's like a static in my brain now, I feel almost numb to it after staring at these things non stop for the whole week."

Dream turned the page, a different date at the top. He already felt worse than he did, but this time the first few words at the top pained him to read. He picked at the leather on the cover where it had frayed. He could feel his touch on every page, he could see the frustration and the melancholy heartbreak soaked into every letter.

"You haunt me. Today, the thought of you hasn't left my head. Not once. I spent time with Sapnap and Karl, but they seemed more absorbed in each other than I was upset over you and it felt unfair. I thought of you, I saw us in their light giggles, in their affection, in their kiss. I reminisced on that time you held me on top of the Community House as the sun came up, or the time we 'jokingly' slow danced together under the tree next to the field of flowers, I thought of the first time you kissed me on top of the hill outside L'manberg. Each memory stings to relive despite none of them being a bad memory in the slightest. If anything I should be wincing at our last few interactions together, but I don't. I look back on those moments and I feel nothing, but I remember them so vividly. 

I almost cane to visit you today, too. After Sap and Karl left I went and sat outside of the prison in the grass for an hour or two. I saw Sam a few times outside, but I couldn't convince myself to ask for him to let me in. I felt like I couldn't face you with the idea of you tasing so bad on my tongue." 

Dream flipped page after page, reading every word, going back to read it again, trying to take in everything he was trying to say. He didn't touch his lunch that afternoon until it was cold. Sam had said nothing to him as he delivered it. 

George had written on what was nearly every blank page, he had started documenting every day, writing his feelings of sorrow and longing for his old friend back. Dream felt like he was there just from reading his recounts of his day, like he was looming over his shoulder, watching his expression change at every sentence, watching him confusedly reread paragraphs and watching him tear up every so often. 

He spent the day reading it, it was a long book already without him taking extra time to analyze and think through his meaning. He was really expecting worse with Sam's reaction. It was mostly George spilling all his feelings from a fountain pen onto each sheet, not to say it didn't crush him now that he knew George felt like this. He was expecting worse. Was. 

"I tried to break you out last night. I mined though the obsidian for hours before giving into my exhaustion. I'm scared I'm going to get caught and having them hunt me down and kill me. If they knew I even tried to mine the wall, I'd be a goner. I came back this morning and they had completely replaced the blocks I dug out so I really started to fear being found out." 

Dream's stomach dropped. He was risking it all for someone he wasn't sure even cared about him any more. He was taking the biggest chance of his life to break Dream out of prison. He felt almost sick at the mention of him even coming to that decision. He was willing to die, knowing Dream might come out as the same person he was locked away as. The Dream that began to dismiss his feelings, the Dream that had broke him off and had stepped on his heart. 

He feared the outcome, wondering if it being 'a lot to take in' was George's demise. He shook the theory and the intense fear that came with it from his mind, attempting to read the next paragraph. 

"I might try again tomorrow, I have settled with climbing up to the roof so they don't notice it in the morning and fill the hole in again. I know this isn't right, but what's the point in not trying. If I get caught and I die, I don't think I would have been able to live on without you. Maybe when you get out we can conquer the world together. We could be happy again, we could be together. It could be everything we could have had if I just followed you, if I didn't let you go so easily. Even if that doesn't work out, we could run away. We could make a new day, we could fix things, we could fix us. It will be just like old times, before everyone else ruined it. I have nowhere left to crawl, this life is nothing without you. I could spend the rest of it trying to save you, and that's all right with me." 

Dream's eyes ached as he tried to blink back the angered cry that was forming at the corners. He wasn't worth all of this. He didn't deserve George and George didn't deserve to be put though this. Dream hoped he realized his mistake and turned back. He hoped to one day be let out and to be reunited with him. For George to fall into his arms, for them to be able to live the life he wanted without having to risk the ending. He was mad at him for even coming up with the idea of breaking him out. Why couldn't he just visit like everyone else? 

Dream wanted to throw the book against the wall he wanted to rip it to shreds and lob it into the lava that flowed in curtains at the door. He would rather he hate him, he would rather have him hold this grudge and never speak to him again, he could deal with the pain of losing him and knowing he's in good health than losing him and having him dead or on the run. 

Sam had obviously read the book, he had soon come to realize. There nearly was no chance George was safe now. Sam had read these same pages, he had read about how George was trying to break him out. He didn't think he could stomach any more. He closed the book, clutching it to his chest and wiping his face before getting up to toss himself back on his bed, setting the book beside him. He glanced at the clock, it was nearly time that Sam bring him dinner, lock up, and leave him here all alone. 

He laid back, trying to compose himself until Sam left, but his mind kept caving to the image of George sprinting away as the guards hunt him down, of him getting caught in their grasp, of a glowing netherite sword being plunged through his ribcage or slashing through his abdomen, his blood spilling to the grass as he lay gasping for breath. He didn't want his fate to be based upon the brutality that he had caused. He could only hold onto the hope of his mind steadying itself and for him to realize this was a mistake.

Dream's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps coming his way from around the corner. He choked down the sobs that threatened to spill from his throat and hurriedly flicked his light off and threw his blanket over his head to pretend he was asleep. Usually when he was asleep by now, Sam just left his tray pushed onto the counter under the bars, and took it back in the morning if he hadn't awoke to eat it. He was pretty sure he just cooked it again the next night and tried to feed it to him again the next night though. 

"Dream?" He spoke, the footsteps suddenly stopping to be followed by "are you awake?" He didn't move, waiting for the sound of the tray being set onto the blackstone and for him to walk away, he didn't like for people to see him like this, even if it would be on the security footage from the camera within his room later. But Sam stayed silent for a moment. He seemed to be rummaging through something after setting the food down. "I know it's probably not the best time," he said, to which Dream couldn't tell if he knew he was faking his sleep or not, "but I have something for you, I feel bad for keeping it from you. Again, open it whenever you're ready." He slid something else onto the block before walking away back down the corridor of cells. Once his sound had faded away, Dream immediately broke down at the thought of having lost his best friend. He didn't even know if he had, but just the idea of George being dead and his blood practically being on his hands was too much. He sat back up, burying his head in his palms for a moment, letting them collect his tears.

Eventually he got around to turning his light back on. He could hear Sam checking all the doors and mechanics that were the security system of the prison from behind the dense layer of lava between him and the outside world. He began to let himself cry, moving to grab the food that had been given to him. A white letter envelope sat next to the tray. It wasn't a letter, it bulged specifically as if something much smaller were inside. He held the tray of food in one hand, plucking the envelope from the counter, sniffling lightly as he went to carry the tray back to his desk.

Dream had pushed the food to the side, setting the envelope down in front of him. He blinked at it for a few moments before carefully untucking the flap that was just simply stuff inside to keep the stuff from falling out. 

A small, blue, threaded item stuck out very prominently against the bleached-white envelope. Just at the sight, quickly realizing what it was, he almost threw up. He looked down to the only thing he was allowed to keep on him—A green bracelet George had made that was on his wrist. He slipped the opposite one from the paper it was contained in. He covered his mouth with a trembling hand, holding the other friendship bracelet on his fingers ahead of him. 

He let out a choked back sob, letting his body collapse against the wooden desk. His entire body started to shake as he tried to tell himself it was just George's way of breaking apart their friendship. But he remembered the visions he had made up in his head and suddenly he was completely breaking down. George had to be dead. There was no way he wasn't. Dream wanted to die. He wanted to let the lava burn his being to nothing but soot. He wanted to sink to the bottom of the magma and just let himself sleep. He let the bracelet slip to the desk and the second he heard the sound of the vault door closing through the walls of the prison, he screamed into his desk.

He screamed until he was out of breath and then again until it turned raspy and his head and throat began to hurt. He didn't know what else to do. Either way, he just lost possibly the most important person in his life. He looked up through the tears that ran like harsh waterfalls down his cheeks, eyeing the food he had received before swiping it off the desk and onto the floor. He stood up, shoving the chair back behind him, only to grab it by the top and smash it against the obsidian floor. He grabbed the bracelet again, figuring nothing else than to put it on the same wrist as his own. He stumbled back until the bed hit the back of his knees and he fell back onto it. 

He held his head with his arms rest on his knees. He had to at least finish the book. He had to for George. He needed to know if he was okay and if Dream could talk himself down. He shuffled through the blanket and the bedsheets before his hand connected with the leather, sending a chill down his spine. He dabbed the tears from his eyes before flipping open to where he had left off. There wasn't much left, which was much more concerning to the idea that he was dead.

"I asked to borrow Sam's trident, he was reluctant, of course. I have three days to do this shit. I don't care how far my ship is from you shore, or if we have lots of baggage to work through. I'm coming to get you out if it kills me. Nobody knows, I've made sure. I've been trying to pin the broken blocks and wrecked pickaxes on other people, but being so disconnected from everyone now after three months of keeping to myself, I don't know how that's blown over. 

I guess if you're reading this, I'm dead or imprisoned somewhere, there's no way I'd give this to you if we got out, knowing I'd have to have you tease me for this for the rest of my life." 

Dream chuckled sadly at that. He totally would have teased him, he at least wouldn't let it go because of how stupid it was for him to do this. But at the same time, this confirmed he was gone. This confirmed he was never going to see him again no matter the situation they are in. He wasn't as shocked to see those words now that they were written out and he knew he was no longer alive. 

He turned the page. 

"I've been on the run for the past few days now, turns out they were patrolling the area after the first attempt. Who would have guessed, right? I managed to lose them quick enough and I've been laying low for a while. This could be the last page I write. But if not, I'm not going to give up. I don't think they know I was getting on the roof so if I wait long enough and try to sneak back maybe I can try again. I doubt it. Right now at least. It looks like I'm either going to continue to run until I'm too far for them to search or I'm going to die here. 

If it happens to be the latter, and this happens to be my last message to you, I want you to know I love you. I have never met anyone who lit such sparks inside me. You made me feel complete, it was like a crazy dream every time we kissed and every time I laid my head on your shoulder or in your lap and every time we watched the sun set together. I loved your laugh, your smile, your kind heart, your affection. It was addictive. You were my addiction. I guess this is my way of trying to get my fix after you were taken from me. I just need you back. I need you so much. 

You were why I woke up every morning, you were like a heavy dose of perfect ecstasy. You were my orange-lit sunsets, you were my flower fields. You brought so much light to my life, like nothing I have ever experienced before and nothing I could even try to recreate. And when you cut me off and broke up what we had it was like my world shattered. It was the most painful feeling. I couldn't think of a reason to get out of bed, I didn't know how to go on and it was like life was still going on without me and it was leaving me behind. I was slipping deeper every day and I held onto so much hate and anger, but I also had a good amount of remorse. 

There were many things I shouldn't have said. There were things I shouldn't have done. If I would have just been through it with you, if I would have stuck by your side, maybe you wouldn't have gone off like you had, maybe you wouldn't be where you are now. So I can't blame you for this, in fact, I'm sorry. I loved you and I let go. I let you decline for my own selfish reasons. I left you to fight on your own and the least I could have done was bring some sort of moral support to the table. I'm sorry. I would give you the world right now if I could, but even that wouldn't make up for my negligence. I saw you were dealing with a lot, I watched people leave your side and in the end I left you too. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to put you here." 

The pages were warped in places as if stained with tears. This was definitely not helping Dream talk himself down. Not only was he the reason he was dead, but he died believing it was his fault. He died feeling like he had let Dream down. It was almost the complete opposite. No, it was the complete opposite. Dream was the one who had let him go. Dream was the reason he was where he was. Dream was the one who left him, he was the one that broke down on him. He was the one that left him for his own selfish reasons and he was the one that said and did the wrong things and he was the one who decided not to be supportive. And now he had his death on his hands. 

He felt like he was drowning, it was suddenly unbelievably hard to breathe. George was perfect, there was nothing he was to blame for. But he died thinking it was all on him. He wanted to turn back time, he wanted to go back. He wanted to hold him more, he wanted to give him more of those memories he held close. He regretted everything. He inflicted so much onto George without even realizing. He wasn't worth this, he wasn't worth his death. He had fucked everything up, he had ruined lives— he had ended lives —and there was no taking this back now. He would never forgive himself. 

It wasn't long into their relationship, it wasn't long after they had even first kissed. He held his hand as they laid on his bed. 

"I wish we could just stay like this forever," George had said. 

"We can," Dream smiled, "we can stay here as long as you'd like, I will stay here forever if that's what you want." 

"You promise?" 

"Yes, of course I promise," Dream sat up, leaning over George now, "you can't ever get rid of me." He had cupped his face in his hands, he kissed him slow. It was such an intoxicating feeling for the both of them. Their chests met, their hearts beating together so closely. 

He would never have that again. He'd never have George again. It was over. There was no way to go back and he had broke his promise. It wasn't George's fault they were here now. Dream wanted power, he wanted to gain any leverage he could, and while doing so he lost the most important piece of his life. He had just forgot about George, and now that he was really thinking about it, he didn't think he could hate anyone more than he currently hated himself. 

"All this to say: I forgive you. I couldn't ever be upset with you for long. You were the one thing that kept me going and I was devastated when it ended. I could never hold anything against you. I still love you. You can't stop me from loving you, it's damaging. If I die, I'm dying with you. I am dying for you. I'm okay with that. At the very least I tried. Maybe you'll get out one day, you'll have a life beyond me, and even though that makes me sick to say now, it's what I really want. You deserve so much better, you always have. 

So if this is the last thing I leave behind, if this is all anyone ever hears from me again, I want it to be a meaningful goodbye. I want it to be known that I couldn't love anyone as much as I loved you. 

I love you, Dream." 

Dream turned over another page. The last page. He flipped through several blank pages trying to find anything else. Some sort of closure, something to confirm that he was gone. It wasn't until he got to the very last page that he found a dried and pressed flower stuck in the crease that connected the paper to the spine. He gently pulled it out, holding it delicately in his hand. He believed it to be a cornflower. It was George's favorite flower. He admired it for a moment, smiling sadly at the fact he put a flower in the back of the book, of course he did. 

He tucked the dried cornflower back into the book before pulling himself sluggishly to his feet. He ran his hands over his eyes again as he walked to his desk. He slid his pen and ink towards the center of the table and opened to the last written page. He stared at the writing for a second or two before taking his pen in hand, not caring much when his tears dropped to the page and smudged the ink. 

"I love you too, George." He wrote. He waited for a second to let it dry before closing it. 

He held it under his arm. He stood now on the edge of the wall of lava. He didn't bother to write a note to Sam. The heat boiled his skin just from being near it. It burned. It was a good burn. 

He bit his lip staring into the orange void. He looked down to the two friendship bracelets they had made each other that he now wore on his wrist and to the leather cover of the book once more. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered with a sniffle, a last hope that George was somehow hearing him say it. 

Without forethought, trying to keep himself from getting too worked up again, he walked off the edge, throwing himself into the deep pit that was filled with the molten liquid. He didn’t feel it much, he was gone within a few seconds due to the heat. It was a warm feeling, rather, an intense heat, and then it was over. Nothing left of his being other than what was now his death recorded on a prison security camera.


End file.
